ESCAPE
by stainedcoffeecup
Summary: Ayra Calvary is nothing more than a memory to Poe Dameron when she joins the Resistance. Missions and long hours change that. He knows her better than anyone else, and she knows his every little working. When disasters arise and problems bubble to the surface, their grasp on each other start to falter. [ PRE-TFA ]
1. Preview

His face had lines — lines that shouldn't exist on a face like his. I had heard stories from other pilots, talking of his rescues and missions that exceeded expectation, yet no one talked about the ones gone wrong. Even Po Dameron couldn't be the perfect pilot. What had he lost in all his time flying? A home, maybe a family? His eyes seemed to match his face well. Some would consider that a compliment; I don't believe he would. I didn't. Whatever he has been through has been looked upon by those old eyes.

"Staring's never done me well. I don't suppose it's going to do you any good, either."

And there he is, never faltering in a genuine grin towards me. Despite the fact he's cut up and injured, he still manages to see a brightness in things I don't think I would bring myself to do.


	2. Chapter 1

_Find Ayra._

"Wonder where it's going this time…"

 _He wants me to find Ayra. She has to be in her bunk._

"I don't know. You better stay out of the way, though."

An orange droid whizzes through the hall, between various conversations and gossip. It has one job at hand — one thing that Poe asked it to do. It could always ask the others in the hallway, who were doing their weekly cleaning and getting ready for checks. But BB-8 wouldn't want to disturb them. It could find Ayra on it's own. And so, it pressed on until a cracked-open door shed some light into where she might be.

It has what it needs. Poe said he needs the information as soon as possible, so BB-8 whizzes away and back to the X-Wing where Poe last was.

 ** _Later..._**

Somewhere on D'Qar, in a resistance base far away from a threat of discovery, Ayra Calavery stands alone in her quarters, pacing. She's been in a constant state of worry for the last forty-eight hours over her next recon mission. Despite being on General Organa's good side and having help in every corner of the galaxy, she can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. And of course, neither could the owner of the little BB-8 droid that had been worried about her earlier.

As he barges into the small room, his eyes instantly find the princess — although, she prefers not to be called one anymore. Her own eyes gently go to survey Poe Dameron, the Resistance's best pilot, a man she had known for nearly two decades. And despite the formality they don't possess, she still puts on a mask around him in this instance. "If you're here to stop me, then you might as well give up now." She really wants to groan her response out, but instead chooses a steady tone that her parents would have been proud of. (She did learn a few things from her etiquette classes.)

Poe's response comes as a scoff, which Ayra has discovered he does a lot when he's angry. She hears his boots clunk against the floor and watches as he takes a step closer. "I don't know why I thought I could stop a princess with as thick of a head as you."

"And I don't know why you thought _this_ time would be any different." She spits back, turning tail to look at the contents of her bag.

Poe's anger gets the best of him as he takes offense to her response. "Excuse me?" He tries. Another step forward, and he reaches out his tanned hand to wrap around her wrist. She won't even look at him, which pisses him off to no avail. They've known each other for _years_ , so the least she could do is look at him when they're trying to have a conversation. Or maybe he's the only one who's putting effort in. She could be off in her own galaxy by this point. "What do you mean by that?" He presses.

" _Every_ _time_ I leave, you fight me on it!" She hisses back. At least Poe knows she isn't off in Ayra-Land. His eyes note how her chest is heavy, boiling with rage, as he whips her around. The princess in her was never fond of being told what to do, let alone having someone physically make her. "I am just as much of the Resistance as you are, and you never seem to understand that!"

"You weren't _supposed_ to be."

"But how many times will I have to go on a mission before you get it past those thick curls of yours that I am _now?_ " Ayra's weight on her chest apparently kept her from breathing easily, because Poe could audibly hear her intakes and exhalation. If he scoffed routinely during their fights, then she had a habit of getting herself fussy and having a hard time breathing.

Despite the fact they fight about the same thing every time she gets ready to leave, Poe has no comeback to her question. Other than Ayra's breathing and the slightest hum from the building around them, the room is silent. Poe stares her down, leaving her to meet his gaze and glare back.

Regardless of how many times the two of them fought, a weight still pushed itself onto her chest. She didn't enjoy their fighting and bickering. When they were younger, their duels made her feel like a child next to him — which always gave Poe room to win. He would hold his chin up, as if he was balancing his sass on the edge, and respond with such confidence. Ayra, as the younger, didn't have the years of confidence she would later be raised to exude, therefore slipping her opposer the win as he ran away and off to his other (and older) friends. Now, he didn't have older friends to run off too, and she had the confidence to fight with him for hours — which Poe couldn't stand.

He was sure he would explode again at any given second, and in return, Ayra gave him a cold stare that could turn anyone to ice. Their parents had always thought they would make a good team, because they were so different. Instead, they would probably kill each other before either of them reached General Organa's age. Both parties looked at each other as if they dared the other to say something, but neither budged. Their fairly serious moment was nearly disrupted by Poe's trusty droid, who wheeled itself down the hall again to stop at Ayra's door and note the situation. BB-8 did what it had learned to do with the two, which was _stay out of the way_.

With nearly a minute of just staring at each other, Ayra gave up. "I don't have time for this," she mumbled to herself. Poe caught the sentence, just as he managed to catch her arm.

"And what do you mean by _this_?"

She took his direction (for once in her life) and turned to look at him again. The roll of her eyes was exaggerated, but meant something to Poe because he felt his heart sink slightly. "The fighting," Ayra snapped. "The constant bickering — you telling me not to go, and me going regardless. Our time could be better served helping the Resistance."

And yet, Poe didn't want to give up, made obvious by the way he went to cut in. His mouth opened, but Ayra beat him to the punch.

She wasn't particularly the loudest person he knew. In fact, she liked to stay as orderly as possible. However, the scream she let out would challenge any preconceived notion of her royal status. The anger was practically visible, like it was seeping out between her gritted teeth and on to the ground between them. Poe took note. Ayra ripped her hand away from him, only to push her face a few inches from his.

" **Get**. **Out**."

She could see his expression mix between something horrified and confused, which he shook off only a few seconds later when Poe Dameron sealed any inch of emotion off to Ayra. She knew his trick. To save himself from losing, he would hide himself away. The only problem with this played-out trick of his was that Ayra knew what was below that surface. And yet, she still let him use it. She needed to get him away.

"Well? Are you going to leave or will I need to _physically_ push you out?"

He took one last look at the room before heading for the door. "Don't kill yourself." He managed to comment in an off-handed manner before meeting back up with his droid outside the doors and walking off.  
The door shut with a hiss.

Silence filled the air once more, and Ayra continued her packing as if nothing was wrong. They would be over the fight as soon as she made it back.

* * *

 ** _A/N_** : Alright, so I may have revamped this story a little...or a lot. If it doesn't make a lot of sense right now, trust me - it will soon. There are a lot of layers I'm working on in this story, so please bare with me. And enjoy!


	3. Chapter 2 (FLASHBACK 1)

The first time Ayra hears his name, she's four years old and the Royal family has allowed heroes of the war to stay on palace grounds. Despite the wishes of her parents to stay out of everyone's way, she stubbornly escapes into the palace gardens to spy on some of the legends she's listened to at school. Johna, one of her classmates, is always going on about how they were all gritty and unhappy people because of what they've had to do, but all Ayra hears is laughter when she listens in.

She's nestled her small body behind a bush, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation her parents are having. While she knew it wasn't a very nice thing to do, Ayra couldn't help it. All of the legends were making her wonder, and she wanted to go back to school and tell everyone else the _real_ truth. None of the lies her classmates were saying. The real truth must have included a lot of happy people, because they couldn't go a few minutes without cracking up at a joke. Ayra didn't get any of them.

Her mother, who she could see out of a hole in the plant, leaned forward to a dark-haired woman. "And how's your son doing? Poe — am I correct?"

The other woman, who's name Ayra hadn't had to learn, nodded. "You're correct, your majesty."

Mother cut in. "Oh, don't call me that, Shara." She did that a lot, but only with people she liked. Someday Ayra hoped she had friends she could do that with.

"Of course, _Kashi_." To a four-year-old Ayra, hearing her own mother's name still felt weird. She was the queen or 'mother' — not Kashi. Even her father didn't call mother that, or not when Ayra was around. "And Poe's doing rather well. I'm teaching him how to fly my A-Wing. Kes doesn't seem particularly happy about it, actually. And…"

A grubby hand placed itself on Ayra's shoulder, as it tugged at her and made her land on her bottom. She let out the smallest of 'oofs' as a response. She had lost the sound of the conversation and the scare of falling was almost too much. Her eyes started to water, and her lip was trembling. The attacker noted her eyes and crouched down. "I'm sorry!" He whispered. One of his fingers went to press over her mouth, as to show that they needed to stay quiet. "Please don't cry. My mom wouldn't be very happy."

"Who are you?" Ayra whispered back.

The boy, with unruly curls that covered his forehead and part of his eyes, smiled. He held out his hand, which Ayra knew to take and shake. The boy's grip was almost too much for her, and she wanted to rub her hand to make the little pain go away, but her mother told her that wasn't nice. So, she just pretended it didn't hurt. "I'm Poe." The boy with a rough handshake replied. "Who are you?"

"Ayra," she replied, getting up and wiping her wet eyes.

As she dropped her arm back to her side, Poe's face became very shocked. Even with his voice being a whisper, she could hear his excitement. "You're the princess, right?"

Ayra nodded.

She liked this boy. Most of the other boys she had met, like the ones at school, were all weird and didn't act like Poe. So, _maybe_ he could be trusted around the palace. She held her hand out, glancing down at it while her eyes said something of along the lines of 'take it'. When Poe's clammy hand grappled on to her's, the young Ayra smiled and started to tug him inside while her mind thought of different things she could show him. There were the mazes on the other side of the palace — or maybe her play room! Oh, there were so many places to go.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Even after two months of not seeing her new friend, Ayra's young mind was still bustling with new places in the palace she could show Poe. He had proven his worth to her, and she would make sure to keep him as a friend. On one particular morning, while being dressed in "special clothing" and gazing out the balcony windows, his name surfaced down the hall. Ayra's ears perked up and she grew antsy for the handmaiden to finish dressing her. When the last bit of lacing was complete, the young girl bolted out the door to find the voice who spoke her friend's name.

At the end of the hall, she spotted her mother and father talking to another man. And just behind her mother's gown, Ayra was _sure_ she saw Poe's curls. Forgetting about the possible scolding if she was "improper", she ran towards the little group and skidded to a stop when she was sure it was actually Poe. A smile then erupted on her face, and she didn't hold it any longer as Ayra nearly tackled him with a hug. "I've missed you!" She giggled.

The party didn't last long, because her mother was scolding her seconds later. Ayra felt hands pull her off of the tackled boy, and back a few feet. "This _isn't_ the right time, darling."

Only then did she look at the newly standing Poe. He had his eyes down to the ground, and his fancy attire wasn't what she had seen him last time. The curls were pushed to something more manageable, but still slightly messy. He wouldn't look at her. Why wouldn't her friend look at her? "Poe?" She tried.

He finally lifted his head to glance at her. Ayra's gasp echoed in the hall when she saw his eyes watering and the trembling frown. She started to hug him, but her father's hand on her shoulder kept her from moving. "Are you okay?" She pressed. "Should we find your mother?"

She chose the wrong question, because he ducked his head to hide in his father's trouser fabric. Ayra glanced up to her mother, and then to her father, and then to Poe's father. What had she done wrong?

Her mother bent down, almost eye level with the young Ayra."Why don't we leave Poe and his father for now?"

"But I haven't seen him in _forever_!"

Kashi took in her daughter's pout, and hefted a sigh. Sometimes, the little girl was more than she had thought she could handle. "You can talk to him later." She scooped Ayra up into her arms, and bid the Dameron family a goodbye. As the two women walked back down the hall, Kashi put on a serious face so Ayra knew she didn't mean anything good by her following words. Her voice fell decibels, so only her daughter would hear her. "Poe's going through a loss right now, along with his father."

Ayra's mouth formed the shape of an 'o' in understanding. She would hate to lose something she loved too. Just last week, she couldn't find one of the toy blasters her father had gotten her. It had engravings and everything. "He's still my friend?"

The queen smiled. "Yes, of course."

"Will he always be?"

"That's up to you, my dear."


	4. Chapter 3

His ship was a godsend.

In all of my time as a scout for General, I had never left my mission so battered and bruised. Forgetting about my arms — which had too many cuts to count — the sting in my cheek was burning with a force I hadn't felt before. My legs felt as though they would collapse under me any second, leaving my cramped body in the powdery snow below. The flushed tones of my skin contrasted greatly against the white color that the ground presented.

Drops of red fell into the snow, and as I watched those, I heard Poe's voice. He called out my name, running as quickly as he could over to me. As soon as his arms were safely around me, I let my legs give out and I collapsed into his arms. He wasn't expecting the action, which is why he wobbled a little bit while adjusting to my weight. "Woah, there." His quiet chuckle didn't sound like it was made because the situation was funny. Instead, the laugh came out of necessity. If Poe believed he could make the pained girl smile, maybe this wouldn't be as horrifying as it seems.

My voice was raspy as I tried to command him. "Get us back to the ship, _now_."

He took my instruction, hitching me up so that my face could nuzzle safely in his neck. While Poe trudged back to the ship, I tired to listen for any sign that there were guards coming. The softest of chatter or footsteps could signify they were on their way, and I wasn't going to have any of that. Poe had already risked himself so much, that any more would make me in debt of him.

Instead of Poe's normal X-Wing, he had a QH-7 Chariot. General Organa had told me he would be using something else, just so that he could safely make his way into the system and find me. The interior was slightly larger his X-Wing, leaving him room to set me down and start the ship. The start-off was rocky, but we made it all the way out of the system before he set it on route and came towards me.

Looking at him, he had changed since the last time we set eyes on each other. For a pilot who was always supposed to be at the top of their game, he had heavy bags under his eyes that made him look bruised. Everything about him seemed sluggish. Shoulders were sluggish, just like his movements. His kneel next to me was rough, and I thought when he settled that dust was going to rush off of him. My hand reached up, softly swiping the edge of his chin where a small cut had scabbed.

"It's just a razor," he dismissed, grabbing my hand and setting it down on my lap. For the slightest of seconds, it lingered. I didn't make him move away; the touch was nice. Yet, all too soon, he was reaching over me to get the required matters for repairs.

That's all they had become. Every mission brought a new injury or a new scar to behold. Poe was always anxious to see them though. No matter how much we fought, he would drop everything in a matter of seconds once we reunited. I sometimes wondered if he was keeping track of every grudge he had to keep against me, just waiting for the day to cash them in while he patched me up.

When one of his hands brushed against my shoulder, the fire was set ablaze. I hissed through my teeth, aching for some release from this pain. "What did you do?" He nearly gasps in surprise, his hand pushing the clothing off of my shoulder to reveal a saber wound. "You didn't fight…"

"No," I forced back. He rushed to put something on in, which stung like hell. I nearly cried out, but pushed it inside. If I could internalize the pain, then maybe Poe's hands wouldn't be so shaky. He was a pilot; he knew better. I needed to explain to him the situation, so he wouldn't fear the worst. "It was a guard. He got his hand on some kind of blaster, and I just barely missed something fatal." He seemed to be calmed ever so slightly by me, which helped him patch me up more.

At some point, I felt BB-8 nuzzle up against my leg. He was being a good friend, truly. A few beeps of encouragement came when Poe worked his way up to my face. He was just inches from me, leaving me to feel the hot air that fanned out across my uninjured cheek. "You know," I started. Poe looked down from where he was treating a wound on my forehead. "I don't know if I would have gotten out of there if it wasn't for you."

"Don't talk like that." He rushed to reply. Poe had a habit of pretending that nothing was wrong if we were in the clear. Everything he was when he was Black Leader countered how he acted with me. Those had to come out of training and experience of his older years. He acted like a child when he was around me, as if we were still the young ones from so long ago. I still didn't know which one I preferred.

I still had to laugh, though. "What? It's the truth. If you hadn't gotten there, the guard would never have been distracted enough for me to take him out." The attack had been a little more than brutal, but Poe didn't need to know that.

As he hit me with the blaster from far away, I felt myself tumble over. At the same time, I heard a ship fly overhead, and watched his attention turn upwards. My body was engulfed in snow, and my own blaster was just a few inches away. The only advantage I could possibly have was slowly slipping away, and I needed to make my move now. I didn't think about him or the humanity he might hold. I just shot. He went down instantly, and as I struggled up, I shot him again for some safety.

I started trudging towards the ship, when I heard snow crunching behind me. My heart sank, and I spun around to see a bloody-faced man. His stormtrooper mask had fallen off, leaving me to the sight of more blood then either of us knew what to with. He charged at me, and I barely ducked out of the way as he zoomed by. I didn't expect an attack in the back, and he topped me over. We both fell towards the ground, but at the last second I spun us around and landed on top of him. My finger faltered with the blaster trigger, but I pressed it roughly against his chest and fired.

The trooper slumped into the snow.

My blaster fell from my hand when I heard Poe's ship descent, and I did my best to bolt after him. There was no time to pick the gun up, as I was afraid more troopers would be close by.

It was still sitting there, I was sure.

As I looked at Poe, who was nearly done with his helping, I could only think of when he made me promise that I wouldn't change. We were both too young to think of the consequences of helping the Resistance. Instead, we were terrified of getting hurt. Poe looked me dead in the eyes and made me swear that both of us would stay relatively the same, and even if we changed, we would still stay close. I hoped he would remember to keep that promise.


	5. Chapter 4

The return to base is quick. Poe's patched me up, and in return I keep him and BB-8 company. As he docks us, I gather myself and try to make it out the doors without falling apart. Of course, I could have waited for my friend, but I would rather take my first steps without him. I can't look too weak to the new recruits. They needed to look up to those like Poe and I. General Organa were counting us to keep up the spirit, and nobody could afford to let her down.

As I took my shaky steps off the ship, a crowd surrounded me. There were other pilots, who were mainly looking for their Black Leader, while some seemed to focus more on the girl who had been rescued. "Ayra," one gasped. "What happened to you?"

"Move!" Another voice groaned, as they pried their way towards the front of the line. I would know that face anywhere — seeing as how I had been in school with him since I was a little girl. Johna looked aggravated as he stared me down, before eventually rolling his eyes and taking my hand. "We need to get you patched up."

"She's fine." Poe's voice boomed as he made his way out. He stopped next to me, checking me over once. The glance-over was almost ritual now, as it came every time we retuned from a mission.

I hit his arm as a warning. "Poe,"

"No, really. She's fine. I patched her up." He cuts me off, even going so far as to place his arm in front of me entirely. The protective side he withheld was being pushed out, and I think he enjoyed it as much as I did — just like the group we had collected. Their faces held an awkwardness I couldn't describe with words.

"I don't mean to be rude," Jonha interrupted. "But, as a medic, I have it in my professional opinion that she needs to be taken care of by someone other than a pilot."

"And as a pilot who's had to stitch himself up, I have it in my professional opinion you're full of—"

"Poe," one of the other pilots interrupted him, leaving me to let out a breath of relief. I could barely stand, and watching two full grown adults fight wasn't in my future. "How was it to fight this piece of junk?"

And as if a light had been switched in his head, he put on one of his signature smiles and started going off about the ship. He never ceased to be charming to everyone except me. I guess I had known him for too long.

Johna took this moment to survey me, keeping a professional expression as he did so. His hand slipped up my arm to check for any major wounds. He made it all the way up to my shoulder, before his hand bumped into where Poe had bandaged the blaster wound. As he looked to meet my eyes, I could only try to show him I was sorry. He mad made me promise I wouldn't get injured on this mission, and look at where that had gotten me. While he wasn't pissed, he didn't seem particularly pleased. "We need to get you to the medical bay."

I nodded, and glanced back to Poe, who had gotten deeper into his conversation. They were laughing now, which gave me a nice time to butt in. I pressed my hand on his shoulder, which immediately caught his attention. "I have to run. General needs me, yeah?" I liked to believe I wasn't giving him a simple fib, and instead blurring the truth. I would see the General, but only after Johna took care of me.

He nods, almost brushing me off. In return, Johna grabs my hand as starts us towards the first building. He stays silent for the most part, other than muttering something in disbelief that Poe said.

The two men had never gotten along. They never managed to meet as children. Poe was a 'royal friend' and Johna was a 'school friend' who resigned himself to sticking things in my hair until we grew older. I joined the Resistance, and Johna followed. Poe, who had already been in, greeted me with open arms. He didn't take too fondly to the straggler I brought along. As Johna grew in his medical skills and Poe in his piloting, I learned to split my time between the two. They couldn't sit at a mess hall table without a spat, so it was better not to poke the Wampa with a stick.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Johna stood in front of me while he "properly takes care of my wounds". He had barely let out a word, but the silence said more than enough. At least he wasn't angry. Johna would be fuming and aggressive if he was red with anger. Instead, I knew he was really worried, and I did my best to calm him while I laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I made it out," I tried to calm him. "You don't need to worry that I won't."

He laughs as a response, squeezing my good shoulder. "You're a princess who has minimal training. Of course I need to worry about you."

I open my mouth to fight back, but a flash of orange catches the corner of my eye. In response, my heart sinks. Wherever the droid goes, a certain pilot is soon to follow. As if Johna will notice, I do my best to keep his attention while he works on my wounds. I can't have the two men in the same room, so I let Johna finish as quickly as he can, After making up some excuse that I need to be with the general, I rush out of the room and down the hall. The fact they will probably never get along tugs at me, and I resign myself to the knowledge that I will be split in half for as long as I'm here.

I take note that I need to go and ask the General for another mission as soon as she has one before I turn to head back to my room.

BB-8's beeps are echoing from down the hall. There are clunky footsteps that follow, and all I can think to do is sigh. I'm more than tired, and I just want to get some rest before I have to leave again. Can't anything be easy since my return? I speed up my pace, only to have an arm catch me in response. With luck on my side, he pulls on my left hand, which doesn't happen to be the injured half of me. "Woah, take it easy." He chides.

"I wouldn't need to if you weren't running after me." I groan back. Poe's smarter than this. For whatever reason, he's been acting weird since picking me up from my mission. I'm proved right when he replies,

"I was checking to make sure you were okay." His hands are tucked behind back, and everything about him screams a little more than nervous — which never happened to the pilot Poe Dameron. He was all confidence and swagger. Even around me, he never sowed his more anxious side. As his eyes flickered back to meet mine, he added. "You _did_ disappear on me."

"Because you were talking to your friends." I laugh. He's acting too weird for me to not to get a kick out of this. Nothing's changed between us, or at least I know of. As I take another glance at him, I sigh. "Look, Poe. I've got to go talk to the General. We'll talk later."

" _Wait_."

"What?"

He takes a moment to think. Poe, as I had learned, was a man of more than a few words. He always had something smart to say, and watching him as he was practically speechless had to be some kind of dream. "…I'm glad you made it out." He finally speaks up. The words warm me to the bone before he adds, "I don't think BB-8 would be able to take losing you."

"Just BB-8?"

His response comes after a moment of pause. A shake of the head relieves me while he goes to add on.

"Calvary?"

Poe's and I conversation comes to an abrupt halt as we turn to find that the General I needed to see so badly is walking down towards us. "And Dameron? Just who I was looking for. I need Calvary in the control room, now. Sorry to steal her away, Dameron."

"No," he replies. "It's fine. She already knew what I was going to say."

* * *

 ** _A/N_** **: Alright! So, I've been happy to have the inspiration for this story - and I'll continue to write for it. HOWEVER, I should explain the whole POV thing. The first two chapters/sections were like a set up before I really started the story. Also, as flashbacks will be common, those will be in third person also. EVERYTHING ELSE will be in first person. I'm so sorry for the problem. Anyways, thank you guys for all continuing to read my story! Please comment if you have the time - anything helps, really. Hope you guys all have a great day!**


	6. Chapter 5 (FLASHBACK 2)

Ayra learned the hard way as she grew up that being a princess wasn't the best thing in the world. She lived wonderfully, but beyond that - she didn't much care for holding the crown. The responsibilities she held weren't meant for a person like her, and sitting around and doing nothing was killing her when she didn't have anything to attend to. Princesses couldn't have friends, even when they were adults. Her companions were mainly working around the grounds, leaving her to be by herself. Her handmaidens were always dismissed, since she could take care of herself. However, Ayra did regret the choice sometimes.

By the time the sun had risen, she was up and about - wandering through the halls while she collected her thoughts for the day. She was supposed to make her way down to the entrance soon, so she could greet another royal from somewhere far away. Mother and Father were very persistent about Ayra being the one to go, so she knew she needed to make a good impression. They rarely ever gave her such important tasks.

"Princess?" A dark voice croaked from down the hall. She glanced up to notice someone slumped against the ground, which is when her heart-rate sped up. Ayra rushed to them, sliding on to her knees as she assessed the damage.

Blood was seeping from the man's suit. His blue-toned hand was pushed against the wound, but the red was continuing to push itself across his body. As a princess, she had never been trained to help him like this. "I-I don't know what to do," she stumbled. Her hands shakily pushed themselves out as if holding them in front of him would do something. As she expected, nothing happened, except for the noticing of how badly they were shaking. "Please tell me how to help you."

"You can't," he groans, pushing himself up into more of a sitting position. The princess noticed how the wine-colored, sticky liquid had seeped onto the ground. "You have to get yourself to safety." He breathed a shaky breath, shutting his eyes for a few seconds before opening them to peek at her.

"I won't leave you." She fought back. If he was pushing her to safety, then she could trust him. He was dressed in Military wear, but the only symbol she could find belonged to the Resistance. He was….he was with the Resistance. "Not until the end."

"You're just as regal as Poe described you."

Her heart, if it hadn't already, momentarily stopped. Like her heart, her mind couldn't properly function. Inside, she was short-circuiting and trying to put together what he had just said. Poe? As in Poe Dameron - a boy she hadn't seen since she was a young girl? The same boy she had let herself fall for until there was a lack of contact and she moved on? She hadn't seen him in years, and he still spoke of her. If the situation wasn't so dire, she would be touched.

"Really?" Ayra was going to keep him occupied for as long as she could. Maybe the bleeding would stop - or someone would come along and help. Until then, she would think of some way to keep him from letting his mind return to the wound.

The man coughed. "All the time." Another cough rocked his whole body, leaving her to worry. Ayra's hands went to press against the wound for some added pressure. "General could bring up your planet, and he'll go on and on about you afterwards."

She had to chuckle. He seemed to be just as talkative as he was when he was younger. "That's very kind of him."

Another cough set him into a wave of shaking, which in return shook Ayra herself to the core. He wasn't going to last very long at this rate. As the fit stopped, in came the wheezing. "Just relax," she chided as kindly as she could.

"He said you were bossy too."

Ayra wanted to hear all about him, as this unnamed man had sparked an interest she thought had died long ago. But the man in front of her was more important, so she pushed through what she wanted. "Let's not talk about him. Tell me about you."

"Oh, Princess." Another cough filled the air, this one weaker than any previously. His voice was barely a whisper as he added, "What could you possibly want to know about me?"

She went to reply when Ayra noticed that there was no rise and fall of his chest anymore. With a panic, the princess hovered her hand over his mouth to check for any breathing. Nothing. The blood had spread even more, touching her dress in spots. The destruction had been done, and now the survivors were left to pick up the pieces.

As steadily as she could, Ayra stood up and tumbled back towards her room.

There was so much blood…

She worked her way back to her room, clutching on to the wall for support along the way. Never in her life had she watched someone's last breath come. The man died in her arms, and she couldn't even help him! What was the point of being here and being a royal if she couldn't help people?

"Ayra!"

"Poe?" She can hardly breathe, but she would know those eyes and curls anywhere. He rushed down the hall, as quickly as his feet could carry him, just to collect her in his arms and press her close against him. He hadn't realized how much he needed her to be near until seeing her again. Her face reignited a pile of embers he thought had burned out.

As he pushes her back to get a better look, he can't help but ask, "What happened?"

She wonders herself. Ayra had thought she was just going to welcome the royal guests, and instead she held a man while he bled out. The red on her hands was starting to dry, along with the blood on her dress and face. There was so much….she would never be able to get it all off. And then there was everyone in the palace. What would they think when they saw her, maroon coating everything it could cling to?

Poe continues to stare her down, waiting for an answer from the shaking and silent girl. She's been standing in the same spot for a few minutes, saying nothing and staring at her stained hands. He can't keep watching her like this, so he grabs Ayra's shoulder and starts guiding her towards her room. He thinks he remembers it from when they were children.

As soon as he rushes them into the room and shuts the door behind them, Poe searches for the bathroom. His eyes scan and scan, but no door is appearing for him to enter into. Ayra is the one to snap out of a haze, or enter a new one, as she starts going for a bookcase. Pulling a latch, it swings open and there's the bathroom Poe was searching for. He lets out a sigh of relief, and helps her into the area.

Fumbling hands prove to be a problem when he's tries to help her out of her large gown. Normally, they're skillful in the way they move, anywhere from a trigger to someone's body. However, Ayra's shaking and unresponsiveness are making it difficult for him to concentrate, since the only thing he can think about is what she's thinking. He ends up taking a few minutes to uncle the back of her dress, revealing another (simpler) layer of clothing underneath. The large dress falls off of her shoulders, and she's left with long bloomers and a corset to cover her. The white contrasts greatly against her dark skin, and Poe wonders whether or not she's gotten darker since the last time he saw her. There's a good chance she's spent too much time outside.

He snaps out of his thought, instead tending to her by guiding her towards the water that's draining from her morning bath. "Give me your arm." She does so, and he gently grips it while finding a towel to soak and begin washing her with.

The entire process is quiet, only water splashing and a little humming from the pilot fill the air. He almost wants to feel relaxed after awhile, but his mind is on too much of an alert after finding his oldest childhood friend like this. He yearns to ask what occurred, but refrains. Seeing as how Ayra doesn't feel like talking, he can't fathom the idea of pushing her.

"Princess, I have—"

A scream makes the pilot drop his cloth, as he spins around to find one of the princess's handmaidens. Her eyes are swimming as they take everything in. The blood, the nearly comatose royalty, and the strange man washing her off. "I swear," he starts as he holds his hands up. "It's not what it looks like."

* * *

 _ **A/N: ALRIGHTY! Sorry for my disappearance! Stuff is starting to get crazy, seeing as how I graduate in a little over a month. I will continue to update, but I apologize if they end up being a little sporadic like this. Good news though, I have a lot of this story planned out. I'm having fun, so I hope you guys have fun when you read it! ~Maddie**_


	7. Chapter 6

Poe Dameron was, above all things, a source of comfort.

Since we had been children, he was the only person who could stop me from balling my eyes out. For example, when I was no more that three feet tall, I was showing a hand-maiden one of my toys from the rebellion when it fell from my hands and shattered. To say the least, I was devastated. However, Poe and his parents were on travel to the castle, and he held me until the crying and sniffles stopped. We spent the rest of the day watching people from my balcony and giggling.

Even as I grew up, he was there for me. I could trust on the boy for almost anything, as long as he was around. There was something about his arms that made me feel warm and safe, and nothing else could get in the way. When I joined the Resistance, his bravery and compassion only made those arms seem more and more helpful. So, when I started having nightmares, he was the one I went running to.

As I ran down the halls to his quarters, the flashes from the nightmare continued to replay themselves over and over in my head. I could hear only the screams of loved ones, ones I hadn't seen in months, and then there were his own screams. My feet pushed against the cool ground as hard as they could, as if it would propel me to Poe's door faster. I had to make sure he was okay. I needed to be in his arms. I _needed_ to feel safe.

The pounding didn't last long. His door slid open and he barely took me in, tears and shaking shoulders, before he was grabbing me and wrapping his arms around me.

"You're going to be okay." He murmured against my head. "It was just a nightmare."

He guides me to his bed, first laying me down before he follows and collects me in his arms once more. I can feel his breathing, slow and steady, as if to contrast my own. He's utterly calm. The man is like a rock I need to grapple on to, as if to keep me from being whisked away by wind or sea. My grip never falters with him. "It's going to be alright," he continues as my heart still races.

I don't want to look him in the eye. There's a mix of utter humiliation and depression that a full-grown woman had a nightmare, but I'm also afraid that if I do look — I'll hear _his_ screams. They seemed to be the ones to stick out the most; his were the most prolonged. The center of everything. Just thinking of him injured…my stomach tied itself in knots.

The weight on my chest is too much to bear as I let out a cry. His grip tightens around me, and I decide to bury my head deeper into his chest. "You can't leave me," I sob. There's no way to help the fact that I don't know what's going on with me, and I continue. "You have to promise."

"Okay, _okay_." He replies in an instant. He does his best to soothe me, slipping a hand up and down my back. "I promise I won't leave you."

We're quiet for a moment, as I lock eyes with him. He smiles in a bittersweet fashion as he continues.

"As long as you do the same."


	8. Chapter 7

Poe looked on in a worried fashion from his position down the hall. Arms crossed and leaning against a wall, he seemed to have an ever-permeant frown etched on to his features as he stared at me. One that hadn't stopped since I came running to him with the nightmares. His wary expression was something I had gotten used to, but that didn't mean it didn't pain him — or _me_ — any less.

Mission after mission, I would return to base. Some, I came back battered and bruised, while others just left me seeking a bed. It could me mine, but it could be someone else's. But at the end of the day, I would still fall asleep, only to wake up hours later with a nightmare that couldn't be stopped. Some nights, I would run to Poe's bed, while others I would curl into myself and wait for morning to come. No matter what happened though, the effects would ravage themselves on my body. I had dark circles under my eyes that looked like black holes, and my mind ran behind. In my briefing with General Leia this morning, I could barely keep up. Thank God I caught everything though, because she wouldn't have thought twice to take me off of the mission if she believed I was anything but ready.

Poe, however, noticed my lack of capacity the moment I exited the room. He grimaced heavily, taking large steps to get towards me before I disappeared into the crowd. General Leia had said he would be my pilot. Of _course_ he would be my pilot. His hand came up to grasp my shoulder gently. "Are you sure you can do this?"

"Of course," I reply, shaking his touch off and heading towards one of the ships. "I'll be fine, just like I always am."

"This isn't a routine," he fights, running behind me to catch up. It doesn't take that much energy. In fact, he's right next to me within moments.

I want to roll my eyes, but I refrain. He _does_ know what he's talking about, and I don't feel like fighting him all the time. "I know it's important."

"Then you're going to try and sleep on your way there."

I glanced up at him at the same moment he decided to look down at me. We caught eyes, and I could see his concern as clear as day. He wasn't joking when he gave me instructions. Of course, Poe was never joking when it came to my well-being. But something about how he never wavered in his eye contact struck me, and I could only get out, "Okay."

I awoke some time later. After rubbing my eyes to rid them of extra sleep, I moped up to the controls to see how Poe was doing. Our missions took us everywhere, which meant that our travel could range from very little time to the length of days. We were lucky enough to be closer than our last mission, and I could already feel my mind working quicker than it had been in the morning.

He must have noticed me from my lack of trying to keep quiet. "Did you get some rest, then?"

I nodded, plopping down next to him.

He grinned, taking a second to show off those pearly whites when he looked over to me. I would have smiled back, but I just looked away and off into the void of space in front of us. I could see our planet not too far away, and just as I was about to say something, Poe started fiddling with buttons. I decided to let hi do his job and prepare myself for mine.

"I'll be in the back," I murmured before excusing myself.

)()()()()()()()()()(

The towering forests stopped any possibility of Poe docking easily. He needed to find somewhere hidden, where no First Order sympathizers would dare to look. That meant, no matter where he landed, I would have a trek ahead of me. The outpost itself was hidden, and wasn't easy to get in. I was surprised General Leia had a way to get in. I was even more surprised when she had me, _a princess_ , going in.

As we finally landed, Poe jumped out of the pilot seat and headed for me. I was on my way to open the bay doors, when he stopped me. "Be careful out there."

I wanted to scoff. Of course I would be. When had I not been? "Yeah, yeah."

As I go to hit the button, he stops me once more but with more force. We glance at each other, and the tension is palpable. I can't stand him half the time when he's gone into protection mode, and he can't stand by 'reckless behavior'.

"Really," I bypass his hands and the doors open. "I'm going to be alright. Just be waiting here when I'm done."

He frowns at me, but I ignore it and head out. With the dirt below my feet and the air fresher than that of stale Resistance Headquarters, I almost feel refreshed. However, remembering that only danger lies ahead, I straighten my thoughts and trek towards the outpost.

The walk there is almost calm. A gentle breeze blows by, tickling my skin. I make it to the outpost, or what was supposed to be the outpost, soon enough. Instead of the castle of sorts I imagined, a ruined building stands instead — about to fall to shreds. The only thing I see is a First Order trooper on the outskirts. Despite such disastrous conditions, people are still shuffling in and out.

Nothing looks out of order for them, so nothing is out of order for me. I duck as I get closer, slipping inside the building without notice. Just liked I expected, everyone is too busy with their own situations to even notice the small woman to walk in. There's another trooper by a door — the one I was supposed to enter. General Leia had never told me that The First order would be here. All she explained was that they frequent the building for business, and nothing more. No troopers, and definitely none guarding doors I was supposed to enter.

There _had_ to be another entrance.

I take my chance and slip back into the commons.

A lone Jizz Whaler is playing in a corner, and if I follow the wall behind him, I find another hall to slip through. My hearts sails when I see that it splits into two, one of those ways leading towards where I need to be going. If I was lucky enough, it would be the back door I hoped for so dearly.

I get to the end of the hall, and see that there's a few doors I can try. However, only one is making any noise, and my heart sinks back into my stomach when I registered what that sound is. The sounds sounded too similar to the ones in my dream — the shrieks.

I crept closer and closer to the door, the screams began to sound less muffled. They were piercing my ears, moving from my ear drums and sending shivers down my spine. I would be more tempted to wonder why no one had come to see what the commotion was, if I hadn't been standing in an outpost for criminals and other creatures to spread news.

The screaming stopped all too suddenly, leaving me confused for a second before a voice commanded, "Tell me where she is."

"I don't know! Please, please. She's not here." The other voice sounded out of their wits; so terrified and pained that I didn't know how long I could listen to this. The second voice started to cry, muffled by something covering it's mouth — as well as the door.

"Why do you expect me to believe you?" The first voice sounded muffled too, but in a different way. He sounded electronic, like it was coming from some sort of microphone, or through slits.

"Y-you read minds, don't you? Wouldn't you know if I was—"

"And I have. So, why do you continue to speak of the girl as if you've never seen her? Do you believe me to be that stupid?"

The area is quiet for a moment. While the buzz of commotion from the common area is echoing around this hall, I know I can hear whatever's happening in that room with ease. My breathing was getting a little heavier, the more tension rose in the air.

"She was supposed to meet me here." The broken voice is quieter. "I was going to give her information—"

"On the First Order." The mechanical, deep voice finishes. He's quiet for a second before I hear a weird noise, which takes me a second to place. I hadn't heard that since I was little, when we had Jedi's visit the palace. Now, however, I couldn't imagine a Jedi on the other side of that door. "Your cooperation was valuable." He continues before there's a scream — and silence.

I was going to throw up. He _didn't_ just…

My feet run me out of the hallway, and I almost bolt from the commons before the memory that I was undercover comes back to light. I pull myself together. I have to. If I didn't make it back to Poe, he would fall apart and I couldn't take that. So, for the sake of us both, I stood straight and walked right for the exit while trying to maintain some cover.

Crossing the threshold of the building lets me breathe. I can see the greenery — something I had almost forgot existed here. It was a good sign. The leaves and trees meant I was on my back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

My back's slammed against a wall, causing a groan to fall from my lips. There's a banging pain in the back of my head, but I pretend it's not there. If one pretends long enough, the wish becomes reality. I think. I don't know, my head hurts.

The unknown assailant has me stuck. Pinned down in fact. "Sorry?"

"First Order has a bounty on your head." It replied, taking one of it's hands and pressing it up against my face. "I understand why. Pretty face like that should be working for—"

It's cut off as it falls from my vision, and I feel familiar hands grab my hands. "Let's get out of here." Poe shouts. I feel a yank before I begin running with him.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** **Alright, guys! Here's an (unedited) update coming to you at a little after midnight! Things are starting to heat up, and little bits of the story are coming forward. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and more is soon to come!**

 _ **xx, Maddie.**_


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